


On the Edge of Memory.

by springburn



Series: Dr Who mini fics and prompts [18]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Big surprise, Civil War, F/M, First Meeting, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Moving On, Post-Clara, neural block, post trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is alone in the Tardis, he has an accident which triggers something in his head. </p><p>Meanwhile, light years away on New New Earth, Civil War rages, a desperate young woman is trying to evade capture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Edge of Memory.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarieAnneLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAnneLouise/gifts), [Tracey_Claybon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tracey_Claybon/gifts).



> This story begins with the ficlet I wrote and posted on my tumblr, for Sexlord Saturday of the Capaldian Calendar. (It is also posted elsewhere on here under the title 'Capaldian Calendar.')
> 
> It is gifted and dedicated to MarieAnneLouise and Tracey_Claybon, both of whom message me frequently on my stories and are always very kind, and both of whom asked for a continuation of this particular story. 
> 
> Thank you both so much. Xxx
> 
> The original ficlet is between * .  
> The story then reopens with The Doctor, having run away again, and is alone. 
> 
> Post Clara is always going to be tough for some people to take. But I am always looking forwards, just as the show has always done. People come and go. Doctors come and go. Twas ever thus.  
> I am positive season ten will be fabulous. I can't wait!  
> This is my own little take on events post Season Nine.

ON THE EDGE OF MEMORY. 

*Red dust swirled around him. Here, on the edge of the city, the fall out blast only enough to flap the legs of his trousers and ruffle his silver hair.

Gradually the cries of those watching on the ground died away. 

All that remained was smouldering wreckage. Twisted metal. Acrid smoke filling the air. 

Still he remained. Stock still. His eyes closed. A tear drying on his cheek. 

"Doctor?" 

His eyelids fluttered but he didn't open them.  
A small hand was placed against his cheek. Soft, and meltingly warm.  
With a sigh he leaned into the touch.  
So familiar, and yet........a distant memory stirred? 

"It's over. Doctor. You can open your eyes now. The Battle Craft has been vaporised." 

Slowly, he lifted his lids, blinking in the harsh light, half blinded by the stinging dust, which still churned and billowed in the restless breeze. 

Looking down into a lovely face. Open and intelligent.  
Dark brown expressive eyes. Her countenance impassive. Calm. Unruffled. 

"You did it. You saved them. It's finished." She said gently. 

"But at what price?" He replied sadly. 

"Doctor, you did what you could. You did your best. What more could you do?" 

The Timelord did not reply, but instead gave a hollow laugh. 

"Do I know you?" He regarded her carefully then. "You seem familiar somehow, and yet you're a stranger." 

She stepped back slightly, her head cocked on one side, her eyebrows raised quizzically, a slight smile played across her lips.

"I don't think so. I'm a traveller, like you. Maybe our paths have crossed." 

He scanned her face with his piercing gaze, as if searching for something terribly important. Then let out a puff of frustration. 

"Always so close. Just on the edge of memory, can't quite reach it.......I'm never sure......there was a woman......we travelled together........but I can't remember........I've tried........so hard." 

He frowned and ran a hand over his forehead, mussing his grey curls.

"You need to leave." She said. "There's nothing more to be done. The Judoon police this sector, you cannot be here, and nor can I." 

She backed away from him then, the smile fading and turning irrepressibly sad. 

"Goodbye then Doctor. Stay safe. Perhaps we'll meet again." 

"Wait! You didn't tell me your name......or how you came to be here........"

It was too late. She'd vanished into the crowd. 

Turning, he could see a deputation from the City making their way towards him, hands raised in salutation.

"Has Clara gone? We wished to thank her for her invaluable assistance." The leader addressed him soberly. 

"Clara? Clara who?" 

"The woman you were just talking to........Clara Oswald. She arrived here to help us." 

The Doctor's hand reached into the pocket of his velvet jacket, fingering the Raven necklace there. He carried it always. He knew it to be hers. Smiling wistfully to himself. 

"Oh, Clara, Clara, Clara!" He whispered under his breath. *

oOo

He drifted aimlessly now. Moving from one place to another with no goal, no aim, and no real destination.  
Sometimes he was in time to help another being, or many beings. Sometimes he was too late. 

Days without sleeping, but seldom weary. 

Then, suddenly and without warning, sleep would come. 

A restless, fitful slumber, haunted by visions which he wasn't sure were proper memories or were simply dreams. 

There was always a woman, but she was indistinct, faceless, without form. Only a thought, just on the edge of memory. Forever out of reach. 

So he did what he always did, he ran. As far as he could, as fast as he could. 

He cleaved to the one thing that was his constant, the thing that had been there ever since it all began, his most stalwart companion, friend and confidante. His security blanket. 

The Tardis. 

He was tinkering with Her now, it was his chief source of distraction.

Kept him from going mad. 

Underneath the console, as he so often was.  
Wires dangling above him, lights blinking on and off. He was splicing together two synapse connectors. A neural connection into the heart of his beloved ship. 

A crack. A spark. 

Then blackness. 

He couldn't be sure how long he lay there. Opening his eyes, there were zig zags in front of them. Head spinning. 

That was worrying!

Taking his new sonic he scanned himself, all seemed to be well. 

And yet......

He felt odd somehow, as if he had a concussion, or a nasty migraine. 

The Doctor didn't get migraines. 

It was then it began. The first wave. Which gradually grew and strengthened. 

Flashes of memory. 

Something in his brain had shifted. The powerful shock had triggered it. 

Clara Oswald. 

"Same Old. Same Old. The Doctor and Clara Oswald in the Tardis!"

He was remembering. 

But he felt so ill. So weak. 

His fuddled brain, rewired by Clara's tampering, was firing now, forging new neural pathways, bypassing the block. 

Back to factory settings.

The Old Girl dimmed the lights, they hurt his eyes. He stumbled as he walked. Felt faint, nauseous.

Tired beyond reason. 

Lights in the floor guided him. Reeling now like a drunken man. Falling headlong onto his bed. Fully clothed. Unconscious. 

He passed into the world of deep slumber. To heal himself from within. 

The Timelord way. In a relative stasis. 

Rest, and sleep and mend. 

"Take me where I need to go." He murmured, then knew no more. 

oOo

On New New Earth the Civil War raged. 

Rain fell in torrents. Soaking rain. Cold icy rain. Which chilled to the marrow. 

The surviving populace packed up and fled. A line of miserable ragged refugees, lugging anything they could carry in bags and bundles. Unarmed, unfed. Cold and desperate. Trying to escape the destruction. 

Bands of mercenaries searched for stragglers. As with all civil conflict.....to the victors, the spoils.  
The old and the very young were summarily disposed of. The healthy and fit were taken away, to be used as workers. 

It was through this scene of devastation the young girl ran. 

Torn and battered. Covered in blood......some of it her own, some bespattered from others. 

Dodging from shattered building to shattered building. Hiding in the rubble. Watching, petrified as the Press Gangs prowled the streets. 

A savage, ruthless bunch. 

She was injured, her arm broken. From a bomb blast the previous day. A livid cut on her head from a piece of flying shrapnel.

How she had managed to evade capture for this long was purely down to her own ingenuity.  
Clever, bright and resourceful, a student at the University before they were overrun. 

The door to the old library was blasted from its hinges. She crawled inside. Sheaves of paper fluttered everywhere in the breeze. Leaves on the wind. 

Oh the horror! All those wonderful books, containing a treasury of memory, of experience. Ripped and shredded. Their precious wisdom destroyed. 

Ducking down behind the shelves as the bright beam from a torch swept across the floor nearby. 

"Come out! Scum. We know you're in there!" 

Damn it! 

A moment of weakness, a blind alley, she'd allowed herself to become cornered. Only one door, and she knew that it only led UP, and that once there she would have no choice. Be captured or throw herself to her death. 

She almost laughed to herself at the bitter irony. 

What a way to go! 

These were going to be her final moments, she decided. 

Stories of what happened to those taken away had reached her ears. Beaten and worked to the bone, hungry, diseased and without hope.

Increasingly desperate and knowing herself to be surrounded, but not quite ready to throw in the towel yet. 

By God she'd give them a run for their money! She was damned if she'd come quietly. She would run, and dodge and hide until she reached the very edge. Then she would deny them their pleasure. Hers would be the ultimate victory. 

There was a clatter at her feet. A stun grenade. A toxic mix of chemical which would knock her out.  
Clasping a filthy handkerchief across her face, she ran again. 

With each step her legs grew heavier and heavier, as if she were moving through treacle. 

Through the broken door and into the corridor beyond. 

Ahead of her a small blue cabinet, made of wood. Standing in the gap between the stairwell and the old lift shaft. 

A potential place to hide?

No time to consider. Choking for breath now and losing consciousness. 

The door gave under her touch, and she fell inside. It slammed shut behind her. 

Because the cupboard was small, she'd expected to feel the back wall immediately in front of her as she held out her hand, instead there was a void. 

Stumbling now, her hand feeling about, fingers groping in the dark........nothingness. 

Oblivion. 

She sank down to her knees. Knowing that nothing on earth could prevent her pursuers entering just as easily as she had done. 

It would be a matter of moments before she was caught. 

Yet she heard no sound of them. 

The last crumb of awareness she had before her eyelids closed on the waking world, was a dim light and a friendly thrum like a gentle heartbeat. Lulling her, wrapping her in a protective aura of safety, where she was free from care, and although she was unaware of it, no weapon built by man or alien, could ever hope to penetrate. 

oOo

Slowly, her eyes opened. 

Lying on her side on the floor. 

The crispiness of dried blood from the head cut partially sticking her left eyelid. 

She was chiefly aware of two things......

Pain. 

And a dim glow around her. 

No idea how long she'd lain there.  
Easing herself into a sitting position, clutching the injured forearm, she winced. A persistent dull ache. Peppered with multicoloured bruising. A palette of livid reds and purples. 

Struggling to her feet she clung to a metal railing beside her, and took a few tentative steps. 

Behind her the wooden door through which she'd come. Ahead the dim recesses of a vast room. 

Her brain did not even trouble itself to compute the size of the portal through which she'd entered compared with the gargantuan vista now in front of her. 

Lights blinked on and off in a friendly way. The centre console lit with a yellowish hue. The rotors above it shining with their Gallifreyan symbols. 

"Wow!" She murmured as she gazed about her. 

"Hello!" She called. "Anyone about?" 

Answer came there none. 

Just the thrum that had been her last memory before the sleep gas took her. Almost a purring. Like a contented cat. 

"Hello!" She tried again, a little louder. "I don't mean any harm........" Then more quietly......"just hiding in here from the nasty bogey men!" 

Attempting levity backfired, as she felt far from cheery. 

"What the heck is this place?" She wondered to the world in general. 

She crossed the console room and took the first exit she came upon. 

A corridor. 

Because the light was dim, she let go of her injured arm and felt along the wall with her hand.  
There was a warmth about the material it was made of. Almost as if it were a living, sentient being. 

After some ten minutes she arrived back where she started. 

She huffed with annoyance. 

"What is this.....Narnia?" She protested, to no one in particular. "Will I find fur coats and a bloody lamppost?" 

Around her there was a slight flicker, only just noticeable, but there nevertheless. 

The pain in her arm had increased two fold, her head ached, and she felt queasy from lack of nourishment. 

With a shrug of her shoulders she set off down the next corridor, identical to the first. 

Every book she'd read as a child seemed to be playing itself in her head. 

"Down the proverbial rabbit hole Alice!" She remarked aloud, squinting down the labyrinth ahead of her. 

"If I see a little table, with a bottle labelled _'drink me'_ on it......I'm not doing it! No blinking way!" 

The corridors were a maze, she was quite sure she'd passed the same way twice. Occasionally there were rooms, which she peered into, called out into the empty void, then moved on, perplexed. 

After more than an hour she sank down. 

Exhausted, angry and afraid. 

"Damn you! So much for safety! Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, no hope and no one to help!" 

Bringing her knees up to her chest, she finally gave in to tears. 

It was then she noticed the row of lights in a strip on the floor. Had they been there before? 

They had, but she hadn't noticed them in her eagerness to search for something, someone. Anyone. 

Hauling herself upright once more, she followed the breadcrumb trail. 

A door. Blue. 

Like the one she'd come through to enter this conundrum in the first place. 

It stood ajar. 

The lights ended there. 

With her good arm she pushed it wider and peered inside. 

"Hellooooo!" She called softly. "Anyone? Somebody preferably not nasty or with tentacles, that wishes to eat me......." She added, more in hope than expectation. 

A large bed. 

"God!" She muttered, trying to penetrate the gloom. "What's with the mood lighting? Can't see a damn thing!" 

As if to answer her, the glow increased slightly and she beheld for the first time, what lay before her. 

oOo

A man. 

At least he looked humanoid.

She moved forwards to take a closer look. 

There was an aura about him. Almost godlike. A strange glow. 

Quite beautiful. 

Apparently asleep. 

There was a serenity in his face, a great wisdom. 

Countless years were written there. Many lifetimes etched across his brow.

His hair was silver, swept back from his forehead in curls. A prominent beaky nose and a sensual mouth. Which twitched slightly as he slumbered. 

He looked tall and lean. Wearing a velvet jacket of deep maroon, dark trousers and smart brogue boots. 

Long tapered fingers were clasped loosely across his stomach, his legs crossed at the ankle. 

"It's The Mad Hatter!" She mused aloud.

As she drew closer, he stirred suddenly and she jumped back with a little cry of surprise.

_"CLARA!"_

His eyes snapped open. Startlingly blue, no......grey.........or maybe green.......she couldn't decide.

He glared at her from under his rather fearsome eyebrows.

"How did you get in here?" He snapped, then held his head as if speaking made it hurt.  
He groaned, rubbing his scalp with one hand vigorously. 

"I feel like I've bit hit by a missile!" He whined. 

"You and me both!" The girl replied faintly. "And your front door was open....." 

"The hell it was!" He retorted peevishly. 

"Well, I pushed it, and it fell open......" She replied, swaying slightly where she stood. 

"What happened to you? You don't look well." Shifting himself forwards on the bed, he rose gingerly to his feet. Still grimacing and holding his head. 

"A bomb went off near me........actually......feeling a tad woozy now........" 

He caught her as she fell. Lowering her gently to the floor, cradled on his elbow. 

oOo

For the second time that day the young woman woke in a strange place. 

She was lying on an examination couch. 

Her immediate thought was to check if she was in any way restrained. 

She wasn't. 

So, not a prisoner then. 

As her eyes came back into focus she could see the maroon velvet jacket nearby. Hanging on a hook. 

Now in rolled up shirt sleeves and a black silk backed waistcoat, the man had his back to her, having clearly decided she posed no threat.  
Without turning to look at her he spoke. 

"You have a broken arm.....I've done a little repair. It'll be sore for a day or two, but it'll be good as new."

"Thank you." She murmured. Holding up the offending article, which now sported a bandage, then craning her head to look around her. 

"You're in my med bay." He answered her unvoiced question, before turning to face her. 

"I think the cut on your forehead may need a suture or three.....it's a little deep for skin closure strips." He observed, his fingers probing her temple gently. 

The girl winced and pulled away. 

"It will hurt a bit I'm afraid......." 

"I've had an untreated broken arm for two days......I think I can hack it!" She shot back, with bravado.

"As you wish......." 

Leaning over her, he began to tend to her wound. Carefully cleaning it, then threading the curved suture needle held between a pair of forceps through her skin, bringing it together. Tying off and then snipping with scissors. 

He spoke quietly as he worked. 

"So....what's special about you?" He began. 

"No idea......I'm not special at all." She replied. "Ow!" 

"Sorry! Well, there must be something. The Tardis thought so.....she let you in!" His eyes narrowed as he tied the second stitch. 

"Tardis?" She hissed.....as he pierced her skin a third time. 

"My ship. She's a Time Machine. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Tardis. She's normally very picky!" His tongue darted out onto his lower lip as he concentrated. 

"Who's Clara?" 

The man jabbed his own finger sharply with the needle and yelped. Bringing it to his mouth and sucking on it, his eyes wide, shock and bewilderment flashing there. 

"How do you know about her?" His hands had stopped now and were poised above her head. 

"I don't. It's what you shouted when you woke up." As she watched, his expressive sea foam eyes began to water, he blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision. 

"She was my friend. We travelled together. But she's gone now. And I can never ever see her again. The Universe insists we stay apart. So we must. But I remember now......I'd forgotten her for a while, a little matter of a faulty neural block." 

"Don't understand a word of that! But that's really sad. I've lost _everyone._ In the War. Everyone I've ever held dear. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. You miss them every single day......people say it gets easier. But they're liars. You just learn to cope with it after a while. Hold in the pain." 

The man was watching her closely. His eyes still moist. 

Then the spell seemed to break, and, moving away, he gave a protracted sigh. 

"There! You're done. Can I help you up?" He offered his hand. 

When she reached forwards and their fingers touched, he instinctively wrapped his long digits around hers, gripping slightly, to pull her up. As he did so, a flash of thought popped unbidden into her head. 

One of such deep sorrow and loneliness. Pain and loss. 

Into his mind, came a similar picture. Fear, emptiness, a craving to feel wanted and safe. 

For a few seconds their combined thoughts burned together. 

Tears in both their eyes. Their hands still joined. 

"What's your name?" She asked softly. "And where do you come from?" 

"They call me The Doctor." 

He gave a little smile. 

"I'm a Timelord from Gallifrey. In the constellation of Kasterborous. Although my planet is hidden now, at the arse end of the Universe. Which, I have to say, is probably the best place for it!" 

Letting go his hand the young woman sniffed slightly, forcing back her tears. 

"And you're all alone?" She asked, kindly. 

The Doctor reeled, as the connection between them was severed. 

"Yes." He breathed. " And Clara told me I shouldn't be! She said I don't do well on my own, and she's quite right." 

She gave a wide, toothy smile, which lit up her whole face. Then touched a finger to her newly stitched forehead. 

"Can I stay?" 

The question was so sudden that The Doctor was taken aback. 

He hesitated. 

She continued hurriedly. 

"Only New New Earth is pretty much trashed, my home is gone......and everyone has left that could. The survivors will be enslaved. I can't say I'm terribly anxious to return." 

The Doctor regarded her critically, his head cocked on one side slightly, apparently considering. 

"The Tardis seems to like you. Funnily enough, she didn't like Clara at first, they agreed to disagree for quite a while. But she seems to have taken to you. But I have to tell you, it's no picnic being with me. It can be very dangerous......" 

She interrupted.

"I've just come from the middle of a bloody War. I got blown up........" She pointed to her own head, and her bandaged arm. 

"There's an awful lot of running involved........" 

"I survived two days alone, and evaded capture, by running.......and using my wits........I'm a fast learner." Her face was almost pleading now. 

"Please Doctor. Don't send me away. I don't want to go back out there." She gestured over her shoulder, to where she thought the door might be. 

"You'd have to promise to do as I tell you......."

"Can't possibly promise that! I'd be willing to bet your Clara didn't do that either!" She was looking intently at him now. 

The Timelord laughed. A merry, tinkling laugh. 

"No!" He chuckled. "You're damn right there! That's how she got herself........" 

He stopped just as suddenly as he began. A shadow passing across his face. 

"Is she dead?" The woman took a step forward and placed a hand on his arm. 

"No." There was a choke in his voice. "She's out there......somewhere........between two heartbeats........living and yet not living, and that's down to me, I went too far, much, much too far, and I cannot allow myself to do that again!" 

He looked down at her, his expression kindly. 

"Well.....I expect you'd like something to eat? You must be ravenous. Shall we see what the Tardis can come up with?" He smiled benignly.

"Does that mean you'll have me? Let me travel with you? Does that mean you've decided I'm okay?" Her face was open and eager, her large brown eyes wide and excited. 

"I suppose it must!" He responded. "So......what do they call you.......what's your given name?" 

He held out a hand to her, which she took, grinning up at him. Grabbing his jacket from the hook as he passed, he lead her out and along various corridors. 

"My friends, such as they are, call me Bill." 

Fin.


End file.
